I Would, Only If
by Mandy138
Summary: Can be considered companion to "A Little R&R" or stand alone. Post anime & manga, spoilers apply. Inspired by Roy's uniform and kept alive by a challenge! RoyAi [Revision soon as updates were erased]
1. Balling

For Kira Yanami and her fanfic challenge.

* * *

It was another military function, the typical ball involving all of the 'significantly' ranked personal for the mingling and nose rubbing of dignitaries to form new alliances and to smooth out ruffled ones. Personally, Riza loved these events. Not because of the diplomacy, she despised that part, necessary evil that is was, but because she could dress up in formal wear outside the military uniform. For some reason, she suspected it had something to do with it being easy on the male half's eyes, the female personal were allowed to forego the formal uniform for these events in favor of more traditional cloths. But the reason she enjoyed this the most was because she got to see Roy decked out in full regalia. The look really did compliment him to a seriously dangerous degree, and few were the occasions he looked so distinguished. She loved seeing him dressed up.

He _hated_ getting dressed up! Hated it! From the tight stiff-necked collars to the confining jacket that restricted arm movement and basically made him behave like some clunky armor. He sighed in general displeasure as he stood with formal posture and watched all those of higher political standing mill about. He felt so naked without the longer bangs to hide behind when his hair was secured back like this, and that his face was so much more open he felt he had to put in extra concentration to keep it unreadable. Apparently, though, it had slipped as he was nudged in his left side. And looking that way briefly, he scowled softly at Hawkeye, but did school his features as he continued to wait to be introduced to the newly arrived.

Thankfully, that went painlessly enough, and they were now seated at one of the elaborately decorated round tables. Solid silver candelabras cradling pure Ishbali wax candles were complimented by the delicate tablecloth of white Xing silk, upon which the beautiful dishware of famous Xing thinness sat reflecting the soft glow from candlelight flames. It was all very well orchestrated, he thought, but of course it was designed with impressing the wealth that an alliance with Amestris would bring you. A fitting theme for such a purpose as tonight's ball.

Hawkeye was at his side, of course, still seated on his left, while the other four occupants of the table were lesser delegates than those of tonight's goals. All of the seating was just as carefully arranged as the decorations topping the exquisite table. Some of the more conservative members of the council took great care to make sure that none of the easily offended or skittish officials were placed with the often radical Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist applying to more than just his alchemic specialty. He was currently watching a gloved hand play with his wine glass, sitting back in his chair and observing how the smooth red liquid gently swayed as his nimble fingers twirled the glass by its stem.

It was so much more entertaining than the psycho-babble he was half listening to coming from one of the delegates across from him. Oh, he was still paying attention, and as soon as this particular dirigible finished, he would call him on some of the major faults in his theory. Riza leaning forward to rest her head on her long-gloved intertwined hands interrupted his musings and he glanced at her momentarily before quietly releasing a breath and dropping his hand to rest at the base of the stem. Catching the man spewing 'facts' about happenstance occurrences and what-have-yous in the eye as he traveled around the table, Roy unintentionally drew attention solely to himself and brought the rant to an end as said man directed a question to him.

"So, Mr. Flame Alchemist," he started in with a patronizing tone, "I take it you disagree with my statements." Lifting his own wine glass up for a sip, he smiled sardonically and challenged Roy with his eyes, so confident in his being right. "Or is it that this is too intellectually in depth and beyond the mental bounds of alchemists?" he finished, smug smile still in place, the other guest on his right somewhat snickering as well. That's how they were seated, though; the two with the closest ideals next to each other, while the other pair differed in thinking and frowned somewhat at the poorly delivered barb.

Roy simply flashed his eyebrows quickly and raised the wine-glass rim to his lips, gazing at the tabletop and appearing to be in thought. Pulling his lips inward to remove any of the bittersweet and somewhat tart wine, he allowed his eyes to follow his hand as he set it back upon the table. Fingers automatically grabbing the very base of the stem and turning it so very slightly, Roy lazily brought his eyes up to strike the man's words away with a piercing stare of slightly narrowed eyes and a smile easily upstaging that across from him. He was aware of Riza looking at him from his peripheral vision before she ducked her head, hiding her lips under her folded fingers in knowing what was coming from his predatory smirk. He may not be _the_ monarch, but he was king of all things constructed in arrogance.

"Now, now," Roy said too calmly as he glanced at his fingers once again wrapped around the wine stem. "Surely an overeducated man such as your self," he punctuated by glaring into the man's eyes, "realizes that such a solution is negated by the fact that the two opposing sides completely contradict themselves not only by one degree, but by a total of three degrees cross-referenced on four dimensions. This is, of course, considering that any politician would even take such conversations for face value. He'd be a truly naïve one, for certain, if he did. But let's put _that_ particular contradiction aside and examine the others by their degrees." Taking another sip of his non preferred alcohol to wet his throat, what kind of place didn't' carry scotch, honestly, he continued, "Shall you or I begin?"

The other man was cut off mid-laugh at the Flame's audacity to correct him on a matter that had been flawlessly presented as the delegate to his far left commented, "He's right, you know. I can see what he means."

"What!?" the pompous man asked incredulously. "Well, then, you must have faulty reasoning along the lines of this _Flame Alchemist_, because this is the _truth_, not some theory!"

"No, it's not even a theory," the smaller man continued, Riza's and Roy's eyes meeting as he was going to save Roy the trouble. "Let me show you what I mean…"

Still looking Riza in the eyes, Roy smiled triumphantly at her over the glass as he drank and set it back down, once more sitting back to soak in the much more agreeable atmosphere. He hadn't really paid much attention to what was being said over the argument, but was only aware of the increased rate of breathing of the ignorant dignitary as he huffed in humiliation and of his eventual hasty departure from the table. Riza had once again moved her head downward, letting her amused lips hide the smirk they sported under her hands. If he didn't get in trouble for this, he'd be praised. The seating _had_ been carefully arranged, after all. The higher ups knew Roy's personality well, and even if they didn't like him, they'd put it to good use by having him weed a bit, and Mr. Huffy could consider himself 'weeded'. Brigadier General Roy Mustang _excelled_ at pushing buttons, and tonight, that's what the council was counting on.

* * *

Roy had said something about going to mingle and play 'make friends' with those who could potentially help him get to the top while waiting for dinner to be served and Riza sent him off with a nod. With one leg atop the other, the decent split in the dress's sides showcased her legs from hugging knees downward. Her forearms entirely gloved, sat vertically in the air as her elbows perched on the table, fingers still weaved as she momentarily lifted her head off them to watch him cross over and work his charm. She flicked her head a bit harsher than needed when turning to follow so that the hair framing her face would sway out of her line of sight. Idly, she wondered if she would regret leaving those strands down and not putting them up with the rest of her hair in the elaborate bun. Wouldn't do to have them in the way of her aim… But she thought she'd positioned it just right. The left bit slid forward again but she had no trouble seeing him clearly, so she decided that the hair was fine. Besides, it'd been somewhat of a pain to get it the way she liked it and she'd rather not mess with it. 

She was always watching him, that was her job, and such a type never really had a shift. Protection had to come at all hours of the day, and Roy hardly stopped moving at the day's end. Rather, he was just beginning. Technically, she was only assigned to him on his clock. When he was at work, so was she, between certain hours. But she felt she always had to be there, to watch him even when it wasn't required of her, so there were many times where she kept beside him even when she wasn't being held to it. Tonight was a military ball, and with the surplus of guards for the foreign visitors, she wasn't overly concerned about anything happening to Brig. Gen. Mustang, and opted to stay seated. But she was on the look out all the same, and armed as always, being especially careful tonight as Roy had decided to forego his arrayed gloves for formal whites in caution of undue intimidation. Though knowing him, they were on him somewhere, and she was pretty sure he had his gun, as well.

Her gown had been chosen with deception in mind so that she would look every bit the daintily refined female flashing as much skin within 'her' comfort zone as possible while being significantly armed. The deceptively low cut back and fitted material made it impossible to think of anyone concealing anything under it, but there was a gun strapped onto her thigh and the hair-piece securing her bun could be used as a make-shift knife easily. She was going for the 'couldn't possibly be a threat' look and thought she'd succeeded rather nicely, thank you. Even the better informed of his enemies knowing who and what she was would remain unsuspecting of her armament in such dress, and that was just what she was going for.

After watching him circle to more than a few people, her neck grew tired and she allowed her attention to become exhausted. With all the guards and State Alchemists stationed here, she had concluded that the environment was safe enough for her charge to roam freely. The small orchestra was playing some wonderful pieces tonight and they carried nostalgia in their notes, the dancers eliciting more as she remembered her parents in her youth at a similar event. She didn't know how long she'd been spacing out but a gloved hand heavy with warmth upon her right shoulder startled her into characteristic alertness. She was quickly aware of Roy and how his presence surrounded her, leaning on the table with his left arm so his face was beside hers, other hand at the back of her shoulder.

He nodded to the dancers out on the floor as he leaned over her and spoke for her alone, "Did you want to dance?"

"Eh?" It just tumbled out. "Um, no, not really," she said somewhat unconvincingly, a slight blush tinting her cheeks as she reflexively sat up and back into the chair and Roy's arm, the heavy uniform coat protecting them from an otherwise slightly uncomfortable episode.

He pulled away from her in disbelief at the obvious lie and just looked at her, eyes roaming her face, his forearm in contact with most of her bared shoulders now. "Then what's with that face?"

The blush deepened a bit as she looked away from him in a small huff, arms crossing. "I was just remembering my parents."

"Hm," the ever eloquent Flame Alchemist put forth, eyes roving over the fabric that reached up to wrap around her neck, the dark color setting her simple necklace and earrings off. How ironic that he'd given all of it to her, and even more so that she was the only female that he's given jewelry. Bringing his attention to her face once more, he shot it over to the dancers and then to her crossed arms.

"Come on," he said, hand sliding across her shoulders to fall down her arm and dig out the hand buried there. Pulling her out of the chair, he traded her smaller hand to his left and pulled her arm across his chest where he held it down at his side. His right hand bee-lined to the small of her back as he pushed her along in front of him, gently maneuvering her to the spot on the floor he'd scouted and expertly twirling her to face him as they reached it.

"Oh, don't look so embarrassed, Lieutenant," he chided with that endearing smile of his. "You looked like you really wanted to." His eyes met hers before she pulled away to stare at his chest. Sighing through his nose in understanding, he focused a gentle and personal smile on her. He pulled her to him and assumed the traditional dance posture, placing her one arm in the proper position, raising their hands to let hers float upon his, relishing how they were being intimate this very night in front of _every_one and how it was _allowed_, if only for tonight. Bradley may be dead, but his 'no fraternization' was still official.

Things had shifted quickly between them at his near-death, the experience redefining his priorities with terrifying clarity. But they were careful, so very careful. Personal time and intimate gestures were so very closely regulated, even in extreme privacy. They couldn't take any chances, not with him being so close. Even his staff didn't know anything of what might be going on. Well, he corrected, he thought Farman suspected. Hughes _had_ recruited the guy, so he was by no means ignorant. Come to think of it, his staff had probably noticed the minute changes between him and his Lieutenant. He would bet on them having a pool going on this, the bastards.

"If I didn't get you going, I don't think anyone would." He'd attempted a small joke to dispel their thoughts and hopefully draw _Riza_ out. She was much too into Lieutenant-mode and he wanted to see the Riza he'd become accustomed to. But if this was too intimate at such an open event, then perhaps there was no room for anything else until he obtained that final promotion. Hell, he was only one away from the 'top', and that being general as Amestris was now a democracy ruled by Parliament.

Reforms were still being written so there was hope of a presidential position once again being commissioned, and he was forever working on his foundation of support. Finding sponsors was tough but strangely even more so without Pride to speak on his behalf, ironically enough. King Bradley may have been the ultimate enemy, but Roy had to admit he hadn't been as terribly corrupt as the other homunculi. Bradley had spoken on the Flame's behalf numerous times and often been the only one to hear him out.

Of course Roy knew some things had been to gauge him when given certain opportunities, but Pride had almost always given Roy a chance to perform after hearing both sides. And Roy had gotten away with quite a bit, until he directly threatened Bradley that night, where the homunculus preceded to hand Roy's arrogant ass back to him piece by piece. That _man_ had never stood for any sort of personal attack from _any_one, hence the dub of Pride, he imagined. Idly, Roy wondered if he would consider the way they were dancing a slap in the face…

Shit.

Fraternization be damned. Tonight was a special event and he intended to flaunt his rule-bending under all his enemies' noses. Roy Mustang did whatever he wanted as long as it was within reason, rules or no; what was the deal with fraternizing, anyway? But tonight, he wanted this, to be together so publicly with no one being able to do anything about it. He pulled her tightly against him, significant amounts touching enough to be considered indecent given 'the rule'. Riza looked up in alarm, brown eyes large and colored with frantic questioning as shocked gasps and breaths became audible as various people caught sight, "Sir?"

He motioned his head in a small, sharp negative. "Fuck them." And squeezing her hand and applying a bit more pressure against her back, he twirled his way around the floor and before as many of his opposers as possible. 'And fuck fraternization,' he thought. 'That'll be the first thing to go when I'm President.' And he caught sight of a certain general and chess companion smiling contentedly at them as they circled around before becoming lost in the sea of those still dancing.

* * *

Riza had been traded a few times and he'd had enough dancing for awhile, so he'd made his way back to his table and removed the small gift in his pocket. It'd gotten extremely heavy since they started dancing and he'd given in to taking it out, unable to get his thoughts off both it and his mind. His head rose from the box and its musings to search for the subject of it all. It'd taken him a bit to find her and that didn't sit entirely too well with him. Roy did not like to wait. He didn't find her until the song's end, and only then because everyone stopped spinning through his sightline. He could see the old man straightening from placing a kiss first on her hand and then her cheek, before waving her off with his typical smile. He'd paused momentarily to get a look at his surroundings before spotting Mustang and heading over. 

"The moon sure is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" he said, looking from out through the gossamer curtains at the full satellite as he sat heavily down across from the brooding State Alchemist. "Don't you ever wish you could capture it, steal it away, and make it yours?"

"No. I've no need for such childish goals."

"Well, its improbability is its allure. Surely even a scientist like your self has something comparable to chase after, the Philosopher's Stone aside or the Presidency," he laughed, easing into silence as Mustang nodded slowly with preoccupation.

"I've found another moon."

"Oh?"

"Mm."

"And you wish to bring this one to your orbit?"

"More like secure its orbit," he said, fiddling with the small dark box on the table in front of him, finally opening it to stare at the bright stone inside. "And what can you give the moon but a star to show how greatly it outshines everything else," he spoke softly, almost in a reverent whisper.

"Why not court the sun? That is the brightest of all heavenly bodies if it's light you're after."

"Because it is the moon that is there lighting up the night of your life when the sun has long since turned away."

The other man nodded. "That is true," he conceded. Gazing at the box and the stone it contained, he questioned the Flame burning with things other than philosophical musings, wishing the familiar chess board was between them instead of that black box. "And will this star's twinkle be sufficient to entrance the moon enough to remain in its orbit? Or was it that you could not afford more?" Although he didn't really think this the case, knowing of the Brig. Gen.'s splurging where women were concerned as he did, he just wanted to probe deeper as he wasn't entirely sure on Mustang's reasoning where his granddaughter was concerned. Well, outside her rank, that is.

Roy said nothing, thinking carefully on the not-so-unrealized fear the General tabled before responding, "No, I could afford bigger," he said, watching the candlelight sparkle off the mounted gemstone. "But anything more and it would look like a proposal."

"Is it?" The question was straight forward and void of any betraying emotions the older man was certainly feeling.

Again, he refrained from answering immediately, thinking about…too much, as always. A proposal? Officially, it had to be- "No," he finished aloud. And continuing, he stated firmly, "Just a promise," to himself and to the man across from him that he held in great respect, before trailing off, "just a promise…"

"Of?"

The General hadn't gotten into Bradley's council with his naïve attitude, after all, and his peculiar interrogation method delivered with childish countenance could be unnerving at times...such as now, Roy thought sourly in considerable distraction. Because Roy respected this man on the level he did, the military father figure he'd never had growing up but something of how he'd imagined his own father would have been, he'd given the General the truth, "That when I reach the top, I'm interested in keeping her around."

"For something more than stacks of papers and quality control?" he probed further, still trying to tease the future president into making his granddaughter the 'future president's wife'.

"I don't know that I'll ever get married," Roy sighed. "I _like_ being a bachelor and the freedom that comes with it," he finished in that same quiet tone he'd been stuck in since before the conversation had begun. Besides, being a single president had so many possibilities; some altruistic and for the good of the country, some not. "After I get my crown…then I'll think about it."

The older general smiled with his familiar and comforting childish behavior, lightly slapping his knees. "Well, considering the only thing keeping you from that is General Hakuro, I'd say that could take awhile," he laughed good-naturedly.

Yes, Roy knew. General Hakuro was his biggest opposition in the council, and with the influence he held, Roy was having a hell of a time gaining support and trust. Once the news of Bradley being the homunculus code named Pride was released to the necessary staff, a very small amount in order to prevent a scandal, the 'mock' coup from then newly promoted Brigadier General Mustang went over much smoother. However, General Hakuro was not apart of the Flame Alchemist fan club and continually used the coup as an example of why he shouldn't be trusted with a position any more influential than the one already granted by the now-dead homunculus.

"Can I ask why the moon, exactly?" the General inquired lightly and Mustang half-smiled, the box still taking up the majority of his attention.

Exhaling deeply, Roy sat up slightly so that he could turn to look out at the full, pure light filling the sky. "Because it protects me from the dark and keeps me from falling prey to that which would otherwise consume me." His gaze fell from the moon, to stare at some distant point in space. "She saves me…and keeps me safe."

"Ah, yes," the General agreed. "There is much in this world to be saved from." Looking out to the moon and then out over the crowd, he placed both hands on his knees and sighed before fixing the vacant Flame Alchemist an appraising look.

"Don't worry, my boy," the general smiled at him warmly, standing and letting a hand grip Roy's left shoulder. "I'll try to work something out." And giving him a gentle yet solid push in the shoulder, the General left Roy to his thoughts once again as he sought out the Parliament members necessary to amend a certain doctrine.

Completing a turn of the box with his fingers, he mused aloud to no one, "If I did ever get married…I think…" Breaking off with a shake of his head, he searched her out, finding her smiling as she danced with Jean, no doubt from one of his jokes or piss-sorry stories of being dumped _again_. "I would…only if it was you."

* * *

The inference of Riza being the General's granddaughter is taken from pg. 166 of Chp. 25. Unfortunately, I could not find out his name, so it will have to be considered a not-so-subtle implication of RxR on Arakawa's part. .;; 

Inspired by Roy as he looked at Maes's funeral and kept alive by the fanfic challenge!

Editted 12-30-04: I've started a second chapter, but not sure that I'll post it. Lol! I probably will, though. But that will be the last one, no more for this story after that. P


	2. At the End

It was sometime not too long ago, he didn't think, that he'd finally convinced Riza to drink something. He'd had to keep pushing on her that he was fine, not to mention all the guards around, and he'd pointedly used her previous justification for staying seated against her. Besides, how dare she miss out on some wine that truly was good, even though not his fix. Relenting, she'd finally begun on her initial glass, which, as it so happened, turned into a few and then many, with him having a good amount, as well.

The 'party' was ending and people were being ceremoniously ushered out, the officers to their cars and the enlisted to cabs. Now, he wasn't drunk, definitely not from wine alone, and neither was Riza. But while he was only feeling slight effects from it all, she was feeling considerably more, as evidenced by her trouble going down the few steps to the curb-side.

He hadn't thought she'd been as affected as she was for she'd shown no trouble grabbing her elegant purse from the table and only a bit standing. There'd been no stammer in her speech or quiver in her walk until the steps. Her pace had been slow and as he thought about it, it was from her concentrating to just walk properly. But the steps proved to be her revealing as she stumbled and he'd thrown a hand out to grip her arm and steady her.

"Are you alright?"

She brought her free hand up to brush back the strands of hair from her cheek, letting him see the obvious flush left by the alcohol. And as she nodded slowly with her gaze on the car door, the other marks left from the kisses of wine upon her ears briefly came into his sight, as well. Nodding back to her, he kept his hand around her arm as he helped her into the car, dismissing the young man meant for that before going around to get in himself. Letting his door be closed for him, he looked at Riza staring out the window before instructing the driver to the Lieutenant's housing.

He spent the entire car ride watching her, arms crossed over his chest as he buried himself in the corner. He took in how her expressions changed with her thoughts and how the night lights filtering in from droplets on the window shifted across her features as she gazed out it. The lights as they crossed the bridge were brighter than most of the street lamps and Riza watched as they bounced off the river, sighing, halos in the saturated air adding such ethereality to the night.

Those same lights allowed him an intimate view of her silhouette, shattered magnificently and enhanced as her chest rose and slowly deflated with that breath. Catching the driver's eyes through the rearview mirror, Roy looked away to stare out his own window, his temporary solitude only broken as they came to a gentle stop in front of Riza's place.

He sighed softly, lost in regret that the ride had to come to an end. But before he could become too entrenched in melancholy at the impending recession of the comforting silence, Riza opening her door at the stop jerked him into action. She was probably just going on her ingrained 'help the colonel outta the car' mode. She almost always drove _him_, after all, and always saw him in and out of the vehicle…or any other door way.

Halting the driver with a quick hand on his shoulder, Roy gave a short nod in addition to their eye contact and hurriedly opened his own door. Going at a light run around the back of the car, he reached Riza as she was coming out and came to stand just behind the door. He took her left hand in his, supporting her as she put her left foot down, heel rippling the smallest of puddles. His right placed itself at the small of her back as she finally emerged and he ducked his head down to look behind her into the car. Seeing the purse clutched under one arm and no forgotten items, he helped her first over the curb and then to her door.

She seemed to be doing fine to him, and after standing and the first several steps, he'd dropped his hands from hers to close the car door. She hadn't waited, not that he'd really expected her to, and he'd jogged a few steps to come up on her right, watching her for any signs indicative of impairment. They reached the small stair case, and he meant small with only three steps, and stopped at their bottom, letting Riza ascend alone.

He stood as she opened her purse and fished around for her keys, turning to head back to the car as he heard them jingling. He would have kept going but he caught her fumbling them in her too limp fingers and turned back again just in time to see them fall to the wet ground. She…was a little more affected than she appeared, her reflexes too slow to catch them and register their fall. Heaving a sigh in exasperation, he turned to the driver, signaling that he needed fifteen minutes. He waited until the driver flashed his headlights and nodded back, only watching as he pulled out from the curb before going to Riza.

He climbed the steps and placed his hand upon her upper arm, stopping her from reaching down as he bent to retrieve them. Straightening again, he opened his palm, jerking it away as she tried to take them and gave a small shake of his head. Reopening his hand, he allowed her to point out the correct key and proceeded to open the door for her. If she couldn't descend steps or even operate keys, he didn't really trust her to make it to bed. A childish and hopelessly selfish perception, but he…felt he really had to see her in.

And which, thankfully, she justified as she cleared the lip of the doorway with a bracing hand on its frame but tripped over Hayate. Sad really, considering the overly disciplined dog only perched before her. Slow reflexes, they'd kill ya, and didn't he know that. He followed her, not too closely, as she ambled to her bed room. He'd paused in the doorway, uncomfortable with entering, and only gawked as her shoes and purse fell to the floor at the bedside while she flopped heavily down onto the mattress in one continuous motion. He blinked dumbly a few times before jerkily shaking his head and turning back for the living room…

…where a very hungry Black Hayate was waiting, paw in air and tail wagging. Roy was locked in a mental war with him, eyes fastening onto each other and holding, willing himself not to be taken in by the animal abusing his appealing nature. Roy's face twitched and Hayate cocked his head to the other side. Twitch, heavy overdramatic sigh released, Roy acknowledged the end of his futile battle.

Roy went to the front door and opened it, glancing back on Hayate who still sat by the couch. Motioning impatiently, he gave an involuntary smile as Hayate ran out the door. Roy moved out onto the top step, closing the door behind him and watched as Hayate sniffed around the yard a bit before proceeding to mark every extremely tall strand of grass. Smirking, Roy gave a short, sharp whistle, and opened the door. Hayate's ears erected and he focused his alert stance on Roy before bee-lining for the opening and the warmth beyond.

"C'mon, mutt," he said, making his way to the small kitchen. He removed both gloves, his pristine gloves, shoved them into a pocket, and pulled Hayate's bowl from the counter onto the floor and opened the nearest cabinet. "Now, where does she keep your food…" he mumbled to himself, systematically moving to each cupboard. He closed the last door, stepping back to view the kitchen space at a glance as a thoughtful hand rose to his chin. Eyes landing on the refrigerator, he let his hand fall away and he strode over to it. And upon opening it up, it reappeared at his chin.

"Honestly, what the hell does she feed you?" he asked as he scoured the shelves. Leave it to Hawkeye to have the most organized refrigerator and kitchen in all of Amestris, no, the world. Passing over the fresh produce and meat, he noticed the one lone container and reached in curiously to pull it out. Looking into it, he smiled triumphantly and pulled away, letting the door close. Hayate must have recognized the bowl, because he stood on all fours and his tail went off as his tongue dangled.

"Alright, alright, I got ya," he said in fake annoyance. Holding Hayate by the collar to ensure that he came away with both hands, he deposited the food. "Damn dog," Roy cursed silently as Hayate chomped away. "Getting all the good food." And mock glaring at him, he gave a parting barb as he stood and went to check on Riza one last time, "You're too spoiled."

He slowed in his approach to her doorway, indecision or anxiousness making his footfalls heavy, maybe both. He placed a hand upon the frame and hesitantly brought his eyes up to her form only to shoot them down to his side as he fought the smile from becoming all out laughter. Oh, how she'd draw out his death when she learned of him seeing her in such an undignified and informal light. He started towards her slumped form, unchanged from her initial collapse onto its glorious softness.

He was unable to bring himself to sit upon it. It was too intimate, and he didn't think he'd be able to handle it. Well, he corrected, himself. Subordinate or not, a sexy female was a sexy female, and her dress and position certainly weren't working _against_ her. Hmm, well, okay, he guessed he _could_ bring himself to sit beside her as he already was, not that he was gonna argue the fact since he was already there.

His hand, too, it seemed, had jumped onto the wagon of betrayal as its fingers stroked the elongated hairpin before curling around the end. A confident pull easily removed it and the intricate bundle of hair fell away, it too, flopping onto the pillow in much the way its mistress had. A notch in the 'pin' caught his attention and he brought it closer for inspection. Fingering the line, the lower half began to slide down only to be secured by his other hand. Controlling the removal, his mouth formed a large 'eek' before re-sheathing the delicate blade and stretching to place it upon the nightstand. He didn't know _why_ he'd been surprised.

His eyes continued to roam, no to check, to check, her over. He noted her hands, still dressed in the elegant gloves, were one on and one under her pillow, and moved on. The necklace had fallen to reach for the mattress, her waist was twisted, and the top most leg bent towards the edge of the bed, her knee almost even with its edge. He'd placed his hands on his knees, ready to push himself up to leave when something peeking through that glorious, glorious division in the dress's sides grabbed him.

Shooting a cautious glance to her face, he leaned over it and squinted his eyes in puzzlement. Darting another crucial and potentially life-saving look to her face, he brought his right hand forward and grabbed the edge of the fabric. He peeled it back oh, so slowly and sprinkled many furtive glances to the indicative zone of impending danger. He supposed one could call it the face, too. Still, even with seeing no forthcoming danger, he was a cautious man, and only folded enough away to see what it was; a holster, and not an empty one; and knowing her, not unloaded, either.

Moaning to himself at this predicament, and a predicament it was, because he couldn't let her sleep with a loaded pistol (between her legs, mind you) in good conscience. So, ingenious and sly man that he was, he would have to come up with some manner of removing it. He wouldn't complain. Being given an opportunity to touch his subordinate in this way would be most…enjoyable. Though it _would_ have to be the leg she was laying on…

Shaking his head momentarily and sending another cautious glance to three o'clock, or her face, he flattened his hand against her leg, the skin warm. Her features showed no movement, and he gave another slight movement against her flesh to make sure she wasn't about to wake soon. If she did, Black Hayate would be burying more than just a thigh bone from dinner tomorrow. Okay, he was positive she was _out_, however, he wasn't so confident in himself, and so he paused momentarily to reach back into his pocket and pulled his gloves on, not trusting his hands to behave in such a…_sensitive_ area.

He couldn't resist a last look before he brought his fingers to the holster and examined the area with his scientific mind and eye as to how the best method to accomplish this would be. Pulling the fabric back a bit, he reached over her bent leg to the gun beneath, squeezing his hand between the legs just enough so that the two of his fingers wrapping around the handle had enough of a grip to pull it out. He made a face as he brought the small pistol up to eye level and deposited it on the table next to her hair-pin slash knife.

The holster, however, posed a different obstacle that would not be so easily removed. The hand that had previously deposited the gun came to rest at his chin in his favorite thinking posture. A thoughtful hand came forth and took the fabric through the split, flipping it this way a bit or folding it that way, trying to judge what the better approach would be.

He honestly didn't think there _was_ an easy way to get it off with her in that position. He wasn't about to move her because she was dozing from exhaustion, too much dancing, he knew, and not a drunken stupor. Those were two completely different things with two severely different consequences. Coming to only one conclusion, he decided that it was just safer to leave it on. Yes, indeed.

Knowing this, he couldn't stop from bringing both hands to the dark material and was even more powerless to stop them folding the front half up farther from where it parted over her rarely-seen bare legs. Alright, never-seen, but perhaps that was why he continued to trail the folded cloth up to her mid thigh, even then unable to see the top of the holster strap. It was a good idea he'd decided against removing it, then, because no amount of justified explaining would save him from impending death for as high as _he'd_ have to reach to undo it.

'Hm, mid thigh,' he pondered. 'Nope.' The fabric shifted a _miniscule_ amount higher, and after a shake of the head, lower, just below her mid thigh. 'Yes,' he breathed to himself, 'perfect length.' He smiled smugly to himself, beyond satisfied. Now the only dilemma he had was whether he kept hers shorter than the rest or the same. Well, another predicament for another time.

Letting the fabric fall away, he stood up from the bed, patting his coat down at the feel of forgetting something. Oh! That's right, the ring. Sticking a gloved hand into his left pocket, he took the small dark box out and hesitated, looking between her and the box momentarily. He grimaced, did he leave it on the table or…? No, that would be too callous, impersonal, and he owed her more than that.

The grimace only lessened as he gazed at the ring, tilting it somewhat to either side to catch the small glints from the faint street lights. Her face was the most at ease he had ever seen, and the hands on and under the pillow adorable and…feminine, dare she find out. His gloved fingers pinched it at the stone and mounting, tugging it up to remove it from the protective cushioning. Holding it up to the window briefly, he turned and sat the still-open box on her quickly cluttering tabletop.

His left hand covered hers, fingers bending under it and sliding his gentle grip down her fingers, singling out his targeted one. He maneuvered the ring over the fabric and gently left her smaller hand fall from his, giving a minor caress as it once again rested upon the pillow. The fingers of his right hand speared the tumble that was her bun and carefully, carefully combed them into some semblance of a straighter order.

It was tough to pull himself away from her, it always was. She was a security blanket on the deepest of levels and so much more, but he had to go. If he stayed any longer, his driver would get tired of waiting and rumors would fly. He couldn't afford that, especially not now. So he backed out of the room slowly, turning around even more so as he came to the doorway and approached the front door.

Opening the door to the sidewalk revealed the driver just pulling back up to the curb and the heavy mist having evolved into a light drizzle. He gave a forlorn look back towards the bedroom and stepped out onto the steps. He'd been about to close the door when Hayate yipped and drew his attention. Hayate hadn't been trying to get out, just get in his way.

He sighed and brought his right hand down to rest on his muzzle, bestowing the dog a solemn pet. "You watch her for me tonight, okay?" he spoke lowly before flipping his hand 'away, away' and finally closing the door as the dog backed away. The pause at the steps came unbidden and his hand migrated to his collar to loosen the uncomfortable choking fabric, adding yet _another_ look behind him.

He'd delayed enough and now he really should get home. He was tired, as well, and while tomorrow was a day off, he never stopped working. He didn't even bother to stop the driver from getting out and rather relished the attention as the door was opened and closed for him. He really was tired. After a quick mumbling on his quarters, he assumed his sulking position, hands crossed and leaning against the side. Though this time, he forewent looking out the window and instead settled for gazing blanking at his crossed legs, the sound of the wipers lulling him into a light doze as the car drove on.

There were plenty of tomorrow to spend with Hawkeye, and he looked forward to every one.

* * *

Ok, this is the second chapter! As predicted. O.o Um, actually, I thought of another story idea I had that I was planning to post as a separate story, but it could very well be added on as a third chapter. Though for now, I'm not sure what I'll do with it regarding stand alone or not. So, not sure what else to say, so until next time. 


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